On the night after Mother's Day, I tumbled into a pit full of grief and fear and recrimination. At midnight, all I could do was weep and get out of bed until I picked up Julie Canlis' Theology of the Ordinary to switch the conversation in my head. Canlis says, "Without at theology that values slow growth over dramatic change and the 'ordinary' as essential to our spiritual maturity, we are in danger of living in a burned over district or burned over spirituality" (8). Her emphasis on not doing great things for God was deeply encouraging considering how plain and quiet my life has become.
The thing about Mother's Day is that it usually causes all of us to feel full of angst. Those of us who are mothers have failed our children in one way or another, because we are just human. Those of us who have mothers still living typically have a complicated relationship with our mothers, especially if we've gone through hardships that they don't understand. Those of us who have lost mothers are often grieving their loss, as you did in this post. Then, there are those of us who are trying to become mothers, but can't, because of some issue with our own bodies. These then feel like failures, but they are not.
This is the most transparent way I've ever heard you describe your decision not to have children and why. You were completely open here with your reality and your needs. You wrote from a powerful position, the position of a woman who knew exactly what she wanted, what she didn't want, and exactly why she didn't want to have babies.
But even then, about babies, we all take another longing glance, for our bodies are designed to want them. We decide whether we want them or not. You chose what was best for your life, and that was a strong and wise decision.
I think we'd all be happier if Mother's Day was eradicated from the calendar for all of the above reasons, but I am thankful to get to know you better through what you have written here, my dear, brilliant, writer friend who has been such a blessing in my life.
May God bless you and Jesus feel near and dear to you, Katie.
Thank you for trusting us enough to be this vulnerable and share this deeply. You are a treasure!
The thing about Mother's Day is that it usually causes all of us to feel full of angst. Those of us who are mothers have failed our children in one way or another, because we are just human. Those of us who have mothers still living typically have a complicated relationship with our mothers, especially if we've gone through hardships that they don't understand. Those of us who have lost mothers are often grieving their loss, as you did in this post. Then, there are those of us who are trying to become mothers, but can't, because of some issue with our own bodies. These then feel like failures, but they are not.
This is the most transparent way I've ever heard you describe your decision not to have children and why. You were completely open here with your reality and your needs. You wrote from a powerful position, the position of a woman who knew exactly what she wanted, what she didn't want, and exactly why she didn't want to have babies.
But even then, about babies, we all take another longing glance, for our bodies are designed to want them. We decide whether we want them or not. You chose what was best for your life, and that was a strong and wise decision.
I think we'd all be happier if Mother's Day was eradicated from the calendar for all of the above reasons, but I am thankful to get to know you better through what you have written here, my dear, brilliant, writer friend who has been such a blessing in my life.
May God bless you and Jesus feel near and dear to you, Katie.
With love,
Melinda